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The Don	By : Rin Category: +S through Z > UnderTale Views: 840 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own undertale, mafir/mobtale or any associated characters. I do not nor do I plan to earn any money from this work.

Chapter List
- 1-Darkest before the Don (sorry I couldn't resist)
- 1
It was raining.

A yellow umbrella lay upside down on the sidewalk collecting it's own small puddle, it's mirror surface lost in a chaos of ripples.

Her bobbed hair and uniform were soaked; white dress shirt now transparent, hair plastered to her head, some stray strands sticking to the side of one cheek as water ran tiny rivulets over her nose and eyelashes. Blinking it away she continued to try to process the bizarre scenario in which she found herself.

She had left late that night, because the diner experienced a rush just before the end of her shift. She'd stayed to lend a hand as usual. She'd had nowhere better to be anyway, and the money would be worth it. On the way home she took a different route, thinking she'd pick up a few things from the store on the way home. She'd been maybe three blocks from her apartment, the bright umbrella keeping her mostly dry as the raindrops drummed a muted beat. She breathed in deeply the scent of a world blessed by a rainstorm,the plastic shopping bag hanging from her left hand.

There was a rustling of plastic as she passed an alleyway, the barest whisper of sound that could hardly be heard over the din of a thousand tiny, pattering collisions. She knew better than to investigate. She knew better than to even pause, in this city. You just keep walking. Don't look, don't ask, and you'll keep yourself out of trouble. You may even make it to a ripe old age. But she stopped. A hundred 'what if's wouldn't let her take another step. What if it was a kid? What if it was some person, down on their luck, left out with no shelter by the rest of the world? This was the kind of thing that got people killed. Mugged on a dark street in the middle of the night. Bleeding out on a garbage heap for a few dollars and some change. She tried to remind herself, and then she turned to look anyway.

As she did a large dark shape rolled over a black garbage bag and landed partway out of the alley. She jumped back and inhaled sharply, swallowing a noise of surprise as her heart skipped a beat and her stunned hand let slip the umbrella.

The shape was humanoid, lying on its side at an odd angle, she could see now. The back of a skull gleamed dully in the dark and a skeletal hand was grasping the front of a dark, water logged business blazer. A man. A monster? The puddle he lay in was swirling red and slowly beginning to turn maroon with what she assumed to be blood. A monster, then. A wounded monster, and he lay mere inches from her feet. She would be more afraid had he seemed capable of even opening what she assumed were his eyes.

He was going to bleed out.
And she would be the only person in the world who could do anything about it.
That would be insane. He'd been sliced open, and there was most likely a very good reason for that. He'd brought himself to this point somehow. Maybe he deserved it. He could be a serial killer, a rapist. He could be any number of terrible things.

He spoke in a raspy deep whisper, startling her out of her inner struggle.
"Go."
She surprised herself when she found herself speaking immediately
"I could call-"
"No." He cut her off, his voice firmer. "Won't help." He breathed unevenly and his voice was back to a whisper "Go home kid. Please".

What kind of person begged to be left for dead?

She took a deep breath and told herself if she lived through the night she could scold herself for this later. What she was about to do was beyond stupid.

She knew very little about tending to the wounded and even less about caring for a wounded skeleton monster. The blood flow seemed to have slowed down considerably and she wasnt sure if that was good or bad.

She felt his chest for other wounds or broken bones and his eyes snapped open to stare at her.

"Look, I dont know who you are " she said "or what you did to deserve this, but I can't see it and keep walking. I'm sorry. I'll do the best I can".

He stared at her, a dim white ring of light in his left socket, before seeming to give up and closing both eye sockets once more.
She could feel the blood, warm and sticky, being washed away gently now as the rain had slowed to a trickle. The cut appeared to score the middle of his sternum, a wide crack in it beginning at the top and tapering off as it had begun to spread downward. She felt for other wounds as quickly as she could, paying special attention to his ribs, spine and skull. She removed his jacket while trying not to move him too much.

Feeling no other trauma, and with no better options she used a pocket knife to score off his shirt and the sleeves of her shirt so she could bind his chest in attempt to keep the wound closed and staunch the bleeding; It had slowed but with her lack of experience there was no telling if or when it would stop. She had noticed a faint mist, like vapor, subtly seeping from the edges of the crack. She hoped the makeshift bandage would also somehow keep that from continuing as she was sure that whatever it was, it was not supposed to be on the outside. He didn't cry out or even grunt during this process and she tried not to be disturbed by that.

Having done that she sighed and said "I need to call 911."

It was the clearest phrase she had heard from him yet when he said "no hospital"

"You. Are. Bleeding." She ground out, disbelief flooding her tone as she glared at him. He could be dying and was insisting he not be taken to the nearest hospital.

"Then they'll find us both and patch the job". He said bluntly, seeming to struggle to enunciate. His sockets seemed like drooping eyelids, belying his sudden outburst and telling of his extreme exhaustion. She had to do something quickly.

He had been attacked by someone he knew. Or at least knew well enough to have made them want to ensure his death. And maybe that of any unsuspecting, bleeding-heart stranger stupid enough to try saving him.

"Fine." She sighed suddenly, her mind made up. But I can't be sure you won't die before we make it down the street. You might die on my doorstep, she thought grimly.

Now she had to figure out how to actually get him down the street. She was small even for a human, and had never been especially muscular. Lifting him would be next to impossible, she reasoned. She searched the alley. No choice then. She had to try to drag him. Leaving the bag of food she'd bought, she put his blazer back on to reduce friction and, lifting him from behind under where armpits would have been, she started home.

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She'd never felt so awake and exhausted at the same time. Her arms, legs, and back ached. She'd needed to stop several times, afraid each time she did would cost more time they didn't have. She'd been attempting to listen; an endeavor hindered by the sound of herself dragging a body through the streets, for the sound of any potential acquaintance of his who may have come back to make sure he was as dead as he should have been.

But no one came.

Blessedly there were also no police around, and she stayed on streets less likely to see any late night stragglers. She prayed to whatever or whoever might be watching that no one would see this highly suspect display and call the cops.

She nearly had a panic attack just remembering the elevator ride up to her floor.

She had been sure it would be where someone would find them and alert the authorities. She was suddenly glad her building in particular was old and the landlord had never cared enough to install surveillance hardware.

She was now, miraculously, pouring herself a shot of whiskey in the kitchen. An emergency medical kit she'd never used was spread open across the bathroom counter. She had switched the sheets on her bed for clean ones, afraid she'd already exposed the wound to a slew of bacteria and it may not make much difference. She hadn't been sure if he would even be susceptible to bacteria. Though if he bled when wounded, perhaps some of her knowledge would still be useful.

She exhaled anxiously and walked back to her bedroom to check on her new charge again. She had cleaned the wound the best way she'd known how, applied antiseptic and bandaged it, having looked up whether or not to try to close the wound. There didn't seem to be much information where treating a skeleton monster in particular was concerned. She did find that the strange mist was somehow related to what monster kind had for many years called "magic". A kind of life force that performed a function somewhat like electricity in the human body, and yet at the same time very different. The information was conflicting and difficult to understand, intuitively. There was no information related to what should be done if it was, for example, leaking out of them.

She hoped he would have the strength to give her more information.

"Hey" she said, keeping her voice low and softer, trying not to startle him.

He opened his eyes a fraction and only the left eye seemed to be functioning, an old scar below it running to his chin. Above the black socket of his right side was another, widening to a small crack in his skull.

"Mm?" He grunted

"You were losing what looked like magic, back there. Your force. There was this mist around the wound. Is there something we can do about it? Is it bad for you?"

"Yes." He looked like he needed to continue, but instead closed his eyes in exhaustion. That was troubling. She hadn't been able to tell with all the rain, and being in the dark, how much blood he may have lost. Everything she'd looked up could give her clues about how much had been lost depending on the type of cut and how long he may have been lying there, but there was also the fact that he was not human to contend with. If he'd not lost too much blood, maybe the drained magic would instead have it's own consequences. He could have meant yes to both those questions, or only one. She hoped if the latter was a yes than the former would be as well.

There were no hospitals specifically for monsters that she knew of. Odd, when she thought about it. They'd been topside for a few decades now at least. There should have been at least one.

He'd also refused to go.

She searched for a wallet and found one.
No ID, which only served to increase her anxiety. No cellphone, either.

No receipts, no debit cards, just a credit card and a tiny slip of paper with a telephone number. Above the number it read "Tori".
It was better than nothing, but she was hesitant. If he pissed someone off so badly they were willing to murder him, who's to say someone else he knew wouldn't also have a score to settle? But if it was the only option...

She knew no monsters, aside from those she'd met in passing, and certainly none well enough to call in a favor in the middle of the night. She was loathe to admit it, but while she also had many aquintences, she had no close friends. At least not anymore.

She picked up her own cell, took a deep breath, and dialed the number as she held it aloft in front of her. She moved back into the kitchen as she heard it ring, not wanting to disturb his rest. On the third ring she heard a sound greeting in a warm, motherly voice. She was still unsure she could trust whoever this was, but at least she wasn't getting a bad feeling from the start.

"Hi. I'm sorry to bother you so late. Is this Tori?"

"...It is. To whom might I be speaking?"

She hesitated again, knowing that giving her real name would be ill advised.

"I'm Maeve."

"Maeve. Might I help you with something?"

"Yes. The reason I'm calling...to be honest, I'm not sure I should be calling. I found this man, er, monster. In an alley. He had this slip of paper with your number in his wallet. I just dont know who else to notify. He had no ID and no phone so-"

"Oh" She seemed shocked. A good sign. "Is he there still? Is he alive?"

"He's......look I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you more. He was cut up pretty badly and I don't know who to trust. Anyway I don't know a thing about helping monsters heal and I don't know anyone else that would know. He won't go to the hospital. He was leaking...something. A glowing mist around the wound. He might die anyway. Is there anything else I can do? He stopped bleeding, but he won't stay awake. The glowing seems like it's stopped. I cleaned the wound and got him bandaged up. I left it open so I could make sure it didn't get infected...."

"You did well, dear. I understand. It is best you dont take him to a hospital right now. His magic levels must be very low. He'll need food made by monsters; infused with magic. Capsules or an IV would be ideal, but those will be even more difficult for you to acquire. You'll need to go to the monster district, get some higher quality foods. Liquids would be best, as they'll take less energy for him to absorb and are often more potent. No alcohol, though that may go without saying. Soup would be good. For tonight I would suggest trying to find a place open that sells magic infused....well, pretty much anything. Candy, confections, anything they have that he might eat. If he's as bad as you say you'll want to go quickly. And try not to be seen by too many. If you get a bad feeling or if someone follows you it would be best to leave and find a safe place to go. Thought its unlikely they know why you're there. Most humans try monster candy for a brief thrill, so they may think you're just curious. You seem to have grasped this already but you've already involved yourself in something....sensitive. When he's well again, perhaps I'll have the good fortune to meet you. I wish I could do more but I understand your caution. Good luck, dear. If you run out of options, or if he worsens, please do consider calling on me."

The line went dead. She hung up.

The advice should be sound. There would be no reason for her to lie, and that hurried, anxious tone would be hard to fake. Nice to know he might still have friends, if she ran out of options. Nice to know there were now options in the first place that would not, at least immediately, get them both killed.

So. Monster food, or monster candy. Anything she could get her hands on that was magic infused. She was grateful for having some direction now. She had a job to do.

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The drugstore clerk had eyed her as she made her purchase, but said nothing. It wasn't illegal, just frowned upon. It also wasn't that bad for you. Like alcohol, it was okay in moderation. The fact remained that most humans were scared of it. The mystery surrounding it made it scary and for some, also attractive. So some less reputable human stores had begun selling the stuff almost like shady energy pills, which was lucky for her. There had been no one else in the store, and though she kept looking behind her on the way back, she didn't seem to have been followed.

She stopped by a similar store on the way home, so her purchases could not be linked together in any way, and bought more bandages.

Once back she felt dread wash over her again as she was afraid to go and check on him. What if she had been too cautious, taken too long, and he had died before she had made it home? She went straight to the bedroom. He was lying there, in just the same position as when she left. She set the bags by the bed and touched his forehead. He was cold and somewhat clammy. She hadn't known skeleton monsters could sweat. Apparently so. He opened his eyes again and squinted at her. She explained quickly that she had monster candy, and a couple other small things with magic in them, and had been unable to find much of anything else this late at night.

His eyes widened a fraction in surprise but he didn't try to say anything this time, so she unpacked the sweets and fed them to him. She felt strange, feeding candy to someone who was trying to survive being stabbed; but those were her instructions, after all. He also seemed to improve somewhat. Within an hour he was less clammy, and seemed to be in less pain. Though he never cried out she noticed there was a subtle change in his expression and the way he lay there. He was more relaxed than before.

Eventually, relieved that he seemed to be recovering, she took a seat on the floor by the bed, turned off the lamp and set a half hour alarm so she could take a nap. After waking up a couple times she then allowed herself an hour, then two. Each time she awoke she fed him more and checked the wound. She thought at first she might be hallucinating, but after some time realised it had in fact healed a fraction. She had grinned, relief flooding her at the sight, and gone back to sleep.

When she awoke in the morning she made breakfast. He stayed awake just long enough to eat some, and she told him she was going to go get some soup, after calling in to work. They told her they'd miss her tonight and asked if she was alright, as she almost never called in. She assured them she'd be fine in a few days ; that she seemed to have caught some stomach bug and just needed to rest.

He had frowned while she was calling in and then drifted back to sleep.

She hung up, and though he was already out she told him she'd be back in an hour or so.

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He'd seemed stable enough after a few days for her to return to work. She was worried through her entire shift, once actually dropping a tray of food before she could take it out to the table. She'd had to assure everyone twice she was fine and just needed to get back into the swing of it. She'd bought enough magic soup and other food supplies that first trip to ensure that all she had to do was go straight home afterwards, which was good because she'd started working the weekends to make up for it. Turned out magic food was not cheap. Who would have guessed? She thought wryly.

It seemed forever ago that she'd found him in the alley, though it had only been two weeks. He had recovered enough to stay awake for longer, and she was grateful that, being a skeleton monster, he seemed to have no need for the restroom. She had kept the wound clean and cleaned off his chest in the process, but she wasnt sure if anything else needed to be clean. Truth be told she was nervous about it. He didn't smell bad, but she felt somewhat bad for not asking anyway.

Today however he requested, somewhat sheepishly, a bath. It wasn't that he needed one, he explained, but he said he liked the feeling; it always helped him to feel relaxed. So she was about to help the scary looking skeleton man get a bath. No big deal, she told herself.

He leaned on her as she helped him get out of bed for the first time in two weeks. She was petite, and he was taller than the average human man, and so they made their awkward, stumbling way to her bathroom.

She tried not to be embarrassed, helping him get undressed again, now that she was not in an adrenaline fueled daze. She had needed to remove his clothes on that first night as they had been ruined and bloodstained, but she had found an enormous t shirt in her closet belonging to an old friend, and had bought a pair of sweatpants. They were still a bit too short for him and rode up to mid calf, but he had said they were adequate at least for helping him stay comfortable. She had tried not to look, and so she still knew very little about that particular area of his anatomy. She felt her face heat up at the idea that she was undressing the man again and reminded herself there wasnt much he could do for himself. She scolded herself for thinking that way.

He seemed to notice her becoming flustered, as he said he was going to try this part himself. She hesitated, then told him if he needed her help she would turn around and assist with the rest. She heard him grip the hand rail on the wall and a shuffling. He grunted and cursed a couple times and then she heard him enter the tub, splashing somewhat as he tried to lower himself without causing more pain.

Seeing he was settled, she excused herself and told him she was leaving the door ajar, and to call for her if he needed help. He sighed, sinking into the hot soapy water and nodded. She went to pour herself another shot.

So you think the skeleton monster is handsome now that he's not on the brink of death, she thought. There's nothing wrong with that. Some racist asshole might tell you there is, but there isn't. There's too much of a taboo surrounding those relationships anyway. So what if most people you know might think that's weird. He's just another person with thoughts and feelings.

The latter she was unsure about. He was somewhat like an unblinking marble statue at times. His voice was low, soft, and blunt but always polite. Then again, the man had been dying for the first few days he was with her, and there was still a nasty crack in his chest where he had been stabbed. Of course he wouldn't be in the mood to talk much. He was probably trying to figure out what came next. So was she. So far she been taking this one day at a time. But now it seemed he was well enough to try taking a bath by himself. At this rate it wouldn't be long before he would need to figure out where he would go from here.

Over the next week this routine continued every other day. He was awake enough to read various things from her bookshelf while she was gone, so she made sure to help him pick out a few and piled them by the bed. When she got home he would request her help getting up to have a bath, and she would go into the kitchen to make herself a cocktail. Then she would help him out of the bath, he would dry off and red faced she would help him get dressed again, as it involved more effort than simply dropping clothes to the floor.

He was in the bath and she was sipping an old fashioned when she heard a voice directly behind her say "Here I think you've been in here worried about me, only to find you've been hiding the good stuff this whole time. 'Been holding out on me."

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Which she was sure he may have found doubly entertaining.

"Jesus!"

"No, G."

"Fine. G. .....what the hell?"

He chuckled as she rounded on him, angry at being scared witless.

"You were just in the bath. I didn't even hear you move-"

"How many of those have you had? Could be you're just not very alert.."

"Bullshit. How did you...?"

"Afraid I can't tell you that. Trade secret and all that. Now; think you could make me one of those?"

"Trade secret. Sure. No. You're still recovering."

"Oh, now. I'll be fine. I'm almost good as new already."

"Good as new? There's a giant crack in the middle of your chest."

He looked down and feigned a look of bewilderment "...will you look at that!"

"......I think I might actually hate you. You've been quiet this whole time, and now you're the most obnoxious person I've ever met."

He laughed at that, and flinched as it stung.

"You're the one who drug me back here, sweetheart."

"....yeah. Thinking it might not be too late to put you back."

He laughed again, flinched and smiled at her. She smiled back.

After weeks of anxious tending to him as he lay in pained silence, she found herself liking the sound.

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His voice was a calm rumble that often made terrible jokes and teased her incessantly. He was serious until he caught her looking at him, and then his characteristic grin never faltered and she wouldn't be left alone for the rest of the day.
He seemed most entertained when he showed up silently, startling her, as was his habit, and when she pretended to be done with his awful jokes or threatened to flog him for teasing her. He was incorrigible.

He talked to her sometimes about the things he'd read during the day. They talked late into the night. Other times they simply sat and read, and said nothing.

One day she came home and he asked to use the phone. He called the same number she'd dialed that first night, shut himself in her room, and talked, she assumed with Tori, for some time. He simply thanked her when he finally emerged and went to take a bath. That night he didn't ask her to make him a cocktail, or tease her about making him a sandwich. They didn't talk about anything, and when it was time to sleep, he simply turned off the light and went to bed. So did she.

He seemed to talk less over the next few days. Of course he would be leaving. That was assured the moment she knew he would live through all of this. She found herself wondering if it would feel strange to her when he left. He'd lived with her now for nearly three months.

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It felt strange, all right. He'd left while she was at work one day. She'd come home to an envelope on the kitchen counter labeled 'Maeve' lying beside the bottle of whiskey and a shot glass which he'd obviously used. She opened it to find a stack of $100 bills and a small note which read "You saved my life. I wish I could do more to thank you, but I have things to attend to which cannot be delayed further. Perhaps one day I'll know your real name." It was unsigned, and she felt that may be for a reason. It didn't need to be, of course. She stared at the stack of money for a long moment, eyed the bottle, and put it away. She held the shot glass, amused at this last bit of stubborn jackassery from her former roommate, then rinsed it out and started dinner.

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It was surprising to her how fast things settled back into their former routine after that. She would work late shifts, come home, read or watch TV, and go to bed. Sometimes she'd go out to the bookstore or a cafe and quietly enjoy the rain tapping against the window pane, and if anyone had been watching they'd have noticed for a brief moment, her mind was in another place entirely.

She caught herself keeping small habits; leaving the bathroom door ajar, making the occasional cocktail. Making the sandwich he had liked best. Now and then she'd open the cabinet to get the whiskey and eye the envelope she hadn't touched since the day she found it waiting for her. She decided such things were best left for a rainy day, now that she knew just how bad those could get. She took a bath now and then, when before she had only used the space for a shower. She found it just as relaxing as he'd said.

After a while she stopped anticipating a sudden appearance behind her as she made dinner, and that was when she realised she'd never see him again.

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Author's note:

Don't worry, this is not the end. I have more chapters coming. This one took me nearly a whole day on my day off. Now I'm feeling out the next chapter. Hope you liked it. Shout out to Revharem, who seemed to really like my first story, and whose kind commentary encouraged me to write another.

Thank you for reading!

-Rin
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The Don